Questions of Flowers
by Basikilos
Summary: Lute gets caught while practicing her favorite hobby, and she and the monk-in-question bond over flowers and weeds. In the end, they wind up testing – and validating – a very interesting hypothesis.


Disclaimer: Same old same old. Not mine, yay IS!

* * *

She was at it again. He _knew _it, though to be sure, he had no idea _how_ exactly he knew. It was just a niggling thought in the back of his head, but he had no doubt he was right. He paused in his weeding and swept a hand across his forehead in an exaggerated manner, taking a deep sigh. While stretching his neck to the left as if to crack a stiff joint, he inconspicuously searched for movement. And – out of the corner of his eye – he caught sight of a sign that proved him correct.

A flash of purple quickly vanished behind a tree. "Lute? Come on out, I know you're there."

She sighed. After years of practice, she considered herself an expert at her favorite hobby. She had been caught fairly often as of late, however, and she now wondered if her monk-watching skills needed some improvement, or at least, innovation. She'd been falling into a pattern, watching him at the same times each day, she realized, and perhaps a little bit of randomness would improve her ability to go undetected. Though how he managed to see her from underneath that unruly orange mop escaped her.

"Hello, Artur. Pray tell, how did you find me so quickly?"

"Now, why would I tell you that?" he replied. "How else shall I keep you from stalking me all day?" He tugged at a particularly obstinate weed that was firmly rooted in the ground. It was important, he reflected, to know just how hard to tug to uproot the weed and keep the root from breaking. "Ah! There we go. Why don't you come help me instead of just watching from afar?"

"Hm," she replied noncommittally. "…All right. No doubt my superior intellect and capabilities shall speed the completion of your task. And I could always make some time for close-up observation of your habits, though I am fairly concerned that your knowledge of my presence will alter the way you act." She knelt down beside him in the dirt and grabbed ahold of a plant.

"Wait!" Artur quickly grabbed her hand. "That's not a weed, that's a flower!"

She glanced at him critically. "Please, Artur. I thought you out of all people should know that I am always right." She made for the flower again. "Ranunculus repens, otherwise known as the common buttercup. Quite pretty, but still, it is a weed."

"Hey!" Artur tightened his grip on her wrist. "Listen to me before you go about plucking all my flowers, will you? Here, perhaps it will help if I speak your language. Oenothera biennis. The evening star. If you will look a little closer, my dear brilliant mage, you will see that the petals are not so golden as those of the buttercup, and the leaves lanceolate rather than broad."

She peered closely. "Ah. A beginner's mistake. Perhaps I should take your advice more often, Artur. I do believe that some natural observation would do me good, for my tomes are not always up-to-date and accurate. You remember the chemida beetle, do you not?"

"Yes. Of course I do." Artur smiled at her and let go of her hand. "Now please, my good mage, continue assisting me with your superior intellect. There are still many weeds left to conquer today, and if we do not hurry, night will fall."

As they worked together, she became aware of a rather peculiar feeling. "Artur, I do believe that I am not feeling well." She realized that she had had the feeling for a while, but it had never been so uncomfortable or prominent before.

"Why? What's the matter?" he leaned towards her, concerned.

The feeling got worse.

"Well, to begin with, my forehead feels hot. I fear that I may be febrile. To make matters worse, my legs are unexpectedly weak and my heart is pounding rapidly. I doubt I could stand if I attempted to." She tested her hypothesis, and found herself able to stand. "Never mind. Perhaps it was an exaggeration."

He motioned for her to sit down. "Here, let me check your forehead." He wiped the bangs out of her face and placed his palm against her skin. "Nope, no fever."

"Hmm…" Lute mumbled to herself. It looked as though the feeling intensified whenever Artur was around. She voiced her concern to him and was slightly annoyed when he laughed out loud.

"Well, I never!" he chuckled, bewildered. "Lute…please don't think me presumptuous, but I'm guessing that you may have feelings for me!"

"What? Feelings? Of course I have feelings for you, you are my best friend," she replied. He kept on looking at her, however, and she thought some more. "Wait…you mean…oh!"

"Of course, this is merely a theory," he added. "Though no theory can be conclusively proven, we can always obtain empirical evidence supporting or rejecting this theory, right? For example, how do you feel when I tell you that I have always liked you, for a very, _very_ long time?"

She gasped. "Oh! Oh!" the feeling was all-consuming now, and it felt as though her heart would beat straight out of her chest.

"And how do you feel when I tell you that I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, Lute?"

"I must admit, the data all point towards one conclusion. But to be honest…despite all my knowledge on an extensive variety of subjects, I have little to no experience with…" she faltered, blushing prettily.

"With love?" Artur finished for her with a gentle smile.

Lute nodded mutely.

"It's all right," his hand crept into hers. "I'll teach you. We have all the time in the world, anyways."

She found her voice again. "It will be strange, being the pupil for once, but I'm sure you will make an excellent tutor."

He beamed. "Great! Well, no better time to start than now!" He leaned towards her, brushing a stray strand of hair out from in front of her eyes.

"W-wait! What are you….mmph," Lute's protests were silenced, and she relaxed, finding the experience quite enjoyable.

They stayed there until darkness fell, the weeds and the flowers long forgotten.

* * *

A/N: I love Lute! Even though she always dies on me :(


End file.
